Insatiable
by alchemy dream
Summary: Touch was never considered. Never was it explored, initiated, allowed. Touch closed the space between right and wrong, forever eliminating the line that she relied on. EmJay.
1. Insatiable

**Insatiable:AlchemyDream**

_A/N: Just a little sexy, light-hearted EmJay...something to counter all the other drama I've been writing lately. It's actually kinda smutty (smut-lite, if you will), haha, so you've been warned. I needed to do something relatively dialog free, so tell me how it works! Please enjoy!_

**Summary:** Touch was never considered. Never was it explored, initiated, allowed. Touch closed the space between right and wrong, forever eliminating the line that she relied on.

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Touch was never considered. Never was it explored, initiated, allowed. Touch closed the space between right and wrong, forever eliminating the line that she had relied on for so long. Now, as she moved silently in his arms, against his body, she knew that it had never been necessary.

A glance, a knowing smirk, a little alcohol was all it had taken in the end.

What had compelled her to come in the first place hadn't mattered once she crossed that threshold. Nothing else was real, school, the air she breathed. Because she only breathed him. Her reality, her existence was "the nice girl at one of _those_ kinds of parties". Somehow, her not-so-better judgment had led her to that basement again, the one where the the ones she longed to be found themselves, found love, or a love-substitute, for the night.

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"Take a mask." the college age girl at the entrance to the house had said, offering a silver tray stacked with an array of personalities for Emma to choose from. The ability to be someone else for a few hours-an offer she couldn't refuse. Strapping the elastic banded mask around her face, she became not Emma Nelson, but a blue jean goddess equipped with an arsenal of guiltless sex appeal.

They all took on a new glow. The lost, the faceless misguided youth, seemed to know just what they wanted. They wanted drugs, they wanted sex. They wanted candy sweetness, they wanted physicality with no strings attached. That's what beckoned them here, to this sanguine-laved, glowing basement in Toronto, devoid of words, save the glamourous pleas for what would both nourish them and destroy them.

Girls not much younger than herself painted themselves in pinks and reds, giving them the look of stained angels, as they wound their bodies gracefully around the masked hero of the night, the one that would sweep them off their feet and into the bedroom.

_There are no words, there's only truth._

Truth, the universe came into being upon first contact. It was an electric jolt. She wouldn't admit she knew he would be here, even if he knew for a fact that's why she was here. And with a smirk behind the black mask, he promised not to disappoint. He knew she never went to _these _kinds of parties. Not with _drinking_ or _sex_. But he was dripping with hard liquor and sex. And when he removed her jacket among the gyrating mass, he knew she needed it.

That's what he liked about her. She never admitted to needing things. She just took them.

_Breathe in, breathe out, there is no sound._

He had discovered at a young age the power of music. It could transform people. It could practically change one's DNA, synchronizing even the most stubborn heart to pulse in time with it. Even here, in this midnight basement, among the lowest of Toronto, he watched her shine, as she slung her lanky arm around his shoulders.

She hated hip-hop, hard rock, everything he liked. She like vapid club beats with thumping bass, sweeping melodies that never let go. Sounds that captured her, that allowed her to capture him. And she always did.

He wedged a knee between her thighs to help close the space. He wanted contact, full body if possible. He wanted to find them as close to sex as she would let them be. He knew the consequences...he knew that hours later he'd find himself lying in his bed hopelessly unsatisfied, insatiable, wishing it was her hand around his dick rather than his own. But for now, the sweet, if distant warmth she provided would have to do.

"I knew you'd come." he said. "Don't hide." Jay pulled the sparkly purple sequin party favour from her face, her hair ruffling. She smiled a smouldering smile, brushing her lips against his ear.

"You knew no such thing." she whispered. Jay shivered internally.

It frustrated him to no end that she never took his own mask off. She wanted something faceless, something ambigious, anonymous.

But Jay wanted something real. He wanted something tangible. She was everything, at least for a few hours. She was grace, religion, peace, dare he say, _love_? This girl, this little one that he had despised for ther unrelenting virtue, her untouchable beauty, her unreachable presence, now in his grip, his hands roaming over pronounced hip bones, exposed shoulder blades, the delicate contour where the armpit turned to the small swell of a silk-clad breast. Suddenly five senses weren't enough. He needed a sixth sense, something that could detect the aura he knew was there, the one that causes them to meld flesh where they touched, the one that provided a soft, dizzying hum that made him feel dreamy and detached.

And he knew sex wouldn't be enough.

He could never reach her through sex, if he ever got that far. It was an answer he didn't have, a problem he tried to solve night after night with her in his arms, detached and aloof.

Emma found herself falling backwards, her knees bending on contact with the couch arm. She leaned back, letting her back hit the plush velvet cushions, Jay's weight falling gently on her. He covered her as best as he could. He reached up to remove his own mask.

"Don't." Emma said, pressing it back to his cheeks. Jay said nothing, but moved down to press his lips against hers. He surrounded her, like air, his cologne sweet and musky, the smell of cigarettes and chocolate.

He was warm.

He continued grinding gently, careful not to crush her small frame. His mouth sought something he'd never find, deepening a bourbon-tinged kiss with whispered questions and answers. Hands roamed, fingers brushed against cheeks, never for a second considering the people dancing and smoking and drinking around them. That's what the masks were for, after all. Her fingers untucked his shirt, brushing against skin for a moment, and without warning, she pushed them upright with all the force in her body.

"I've got to go." She picked up her jacket and made her way to the door, throwing down the mask, without so much of a goodbye. Jay sat, untucked, ruffled, and in general disarray, staring incredulously in front of him. His heart continued to pound in the aftermath of his unsuccessful conquest, his eyes wide with confusion.

_You crazy fool._

His subconscious cackled as he slumped backwards, watching the couples dance around him, the door that had been shut in his face. Again. His hands ached from her touch, his head ached from the hurricane her presence provoked. Jay rubbed his blue eyes, biting his lip until he drew blood.

He felt hopelessly insatiable.

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Thank you for reading, hopefully it wasn't to...ahem...I don't know. It just sorta spewed out from my head tonight.

Just as a side note, _please_ consider donating to the **Red Cross**! Help out the victims of Hurricane Katrina, every little bit helps! Thanks so much. Take care, and reviews are love! XOXO


	2. Dirty

**Insatiable:AlchemyDream**

**WARNING: This part is really only for older teens, but it isn't graphic enough for a 'M' rating. It contains an adult theme and a few coarse words. Please be advised! **

_Well, I guess by popular demand, here's another part! Thank you for the reviews, I was really surprised! I've decided to make this a three part piece. I apologize, this part is even smuttier, haha. What can I say. I've tried to keep it kind of ambiguous, but raw. So, yes, again, please enjoy! _

**Summary:** Touch was never considered. Never was it explored, initiated, allowed. Touch closed the space between right and wrong, forever eliminating the line that she relied on.

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Touch was never considered. Never was it explored, initiated, allowed. Touch closed the space between right and wrong, forever eliminating the line that he relied on. And as he had stormed into her bedroom door, he had exercised great control in establishing this line once and for all.

It was not love making.

It was not sex.

It was just fucking.

Jay had been here many times in the past, sneaking his way to the back yard, grabbing the key from underneath the welcome mat, quietly turning the lock to open the back door. He would pad silently to her bedroom, where she would have her headphones on, her mind consumed with metal riffs. He would unceremoniously throw her to the bed, the way he knew she would appreciate it, and well, get on with it.

Looking down through half-lidded bedroom-blue eyes, Jay observed the incomparable beauty below him. A spit-fire bitch during day, an insatiable sex goddess by night. Alex had long been the object of his every affection, his trophy girlfriend. He was reminded of this every night that he found her writhing below him in her bed. Perfectly flawless olive skin, complimented by dark hazel eyes and full, round, plush lips. Everyone knew that Alex had Jay around her little finger. She was beautiful, smart, sexy, and demanded attention. He seemed to always be consumed with powerful women, women who deemed him so transparent and easy that they saw no worth in his existence. But tonight was different. Jay knew what he wanted. Even if he couldn't have it.

Disgusted with himself, he moved fiercely over Alex, trying to force himself to delight in the perfect sounds she made. He tried to get lost in the sharp fingernails in his skin, the smell of fruity shampoo and dewy skin. He tried to find consolation for his lonliness in the useless noise the mattress and bed frame made under their weight. But nothing would do. Emma's face would always appear, the slenderness of her form under the clothes permeating every last functioning corner of his mind.

I_f you want to, I can be dirty too. I can spin you around pick you up and go  
Down if you want to I can be just like you and do the dirty things you do..._

He surrendered, losing himself in the recordings of the accidental minx that his five senses had documented.

And that's when the fucking was good. That's when it escalated to sex. To love-making. To a situation barely describable. That's when he felt the sweat break over the expanse of his back under the warm sheets. Everything transformed. Movement became kinesis, breathing became moaning for the vessel beneath him, interrupting his fantasy. Rhythm became unrestrained, forceful, and powerful until his sighs grew quicker, marking the end with a slightly louder one and a rolling of the hips, releasing frustration.

But strangely, he always found himself more frustrated after coming down.

Alex began the arduous process of bonding with him, wrapping her arms around his body and pulling him near, and he knew he couldn't refuse. He simply complied, laying his head on her damp clavicle, wanting nothing more than to take a shower. Alex would whisper romantic garbage into his unwilling ear and run her beautiful hands through his dark hair, complimenting him on his performance, wondering if she could have a ride to work tomorrow night, and a whole slew of inane, and unfitting pillow talk.

He knew the drill. Kiss her goodnight, tuck her in, and travel in reverse, as if nothing had happened. Get dressed, sneak back down the hall past her sleeping mother, out the door, into the car, down the street, into the house, into the bed.

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Jay watched the ceiling fan move in a slow rotation as he shifted his bare legs, scrubbing a fuzzy shin with his toe. He turned in the bed to gaze out the fluttering curtains into the street below.

She was out there, somewhere. Laying snug in her bed, without a thought in her pretty, vapid little head about him. She had simply gone home, slung her jacket onto the floor, removed her clothes, and fallen into bed without so much of a realization that she was crushing his world. And yet she would seek him out again next week, amid more faceless kids, to the same thumping music, underneath the same misinterpretation that this was what _he_ wanted also. A quick, unsatisfying thrill.

He would never call it love. No, never love. Adoration, and infatuation. Deeper than a sheer physical level, but never emotional.

His addiction was spiritual. Every week she was the goddess he sought, the hopeless heaven that burned like acid, stained like ink. He yearned for some sort of divine retribution. He yearned to turn the lights down dully and show her exactly what prayer meant to him.

Jay's mind was carried away with flights of fancy, a strangely familiar warmth that intoxicated him beyong repair, that frustrated him until, had he been a lesser man, would have left him in tears. What exactly did it mean that Alex wasn't enough for him? That she had never been enough? Was it that she was always there? Or was it the detachment he had forged for so long that now pried him farther from his girlfriend? Perhaps that combined with the magnetism that Emma provided was the final straw. The two were like heat-seeking missles in a crowded room, and he wasn't so sure how it had gotten so bad.

In the end it came down to the simple fact that he had it all, and that would never be enough.

He felt selfishly insatiable.

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Well, bweep. There it is. More cranial spewing. Reviews are love!


	3. Strange Relationship

**Insatiable:AlchemyDream**

_A/N: Well, is everyone still enjoying the ride? Hope so. The title and chapter names of this story are derived from an album by Darren Hayes, called Insatiable, of course. It's a pretty sexy album. _

**Summary: **Touch was never considered. Never was it explored, initiated, allowed. Touch closed the space between right and wrong, forever eliminating the line that she relied on.

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Touch was never considered. Never was it explored, initiated, allowed. Touch closed the space between right and wrong, forever eliminating the line that he relied on. He struggled to sever the line that bound him irrefutably from his accidental mistress.

Leaning into the book he had randomly chosen as a decoy from the shelf, Jay rested his world-weary head against the soft cushion of a library chair. When skipping, Jay chose the library often, since it was the least likely place anyone would look for him. The pictures he stared blindly at examined the several colourful sectors of the brain, most of which he was unfamiliar with.

To the left was a list of functions with corresponding numbers. On the proceeding page was a map of the brain, massed in with bright pinks and greens and blues. Not particularly willing to become enlightened, but too tired to argue with his situation, he picked the word that most appealed to him on the left hand box.

04. Happiness.

He swallowed deeply, and looked at the map, locating number four, a bright orange part toward the back called the 'amygdala', which apparently must be kept quiet to avoid negative emotions. Jay snorted to himself. Too bad his amygdala was relatively loud. He picked another word.

09. Consciousness.

Immediately his eyes went to the large yellow mass that indicated the frontal lobes. It made sense that so much space in his brain could be devoted to the thing that he wished not to be.

Jay continued studying the page, mildly interested in the physiology of his head, which often times seemed so fucked up. The bright, nuclear colours made things seem so clean cut and easy!

It was such a strange thing, the transition from day to night. During the night, Jay could be Jay. Moody, lonely, electric, charismatic. During the day, he was hungover, tired, grumpy, and generally displeased with life. During the night, Jay could be a lover, a leaver, a lifer. During the day, he had to be a learner, a listener. What was also unusual was the fact that so little had changed, at least in an outward fashion, in his life. He was still a delinquent, he still dated and fucked the hottest girl in the school, he still scared the young ones. But inside, something had crept up on him. It had stole him away, teased him out of his environment, only to be wrapped around its delicate finger, and unceremoniously jettisoned him out of its world.

And it was walking right up to him at this very moment.

It sat down, three chairs away from him, a tattered, unloved copy of Beowulf in it's claws.

It pulled its blonde hair into a low tail and smacked its gum.

Jay said nothing as Emma seated herself a few seats away, sipping a Red Bull. He wondered if she needed the energy, or she drank it because Manny did. He wondered why he cared. He averted his eyes from her glory and stared at the book in mock interest.

Smell-_The Limbic system: Emotions are generated in the limbic system, so the fact that smell information enters your limbic system helps explain why smells can evoke such strong memories and emotions._

The fragrance of early morning shampoo and watermelon gum flooded his senses, just as it always did, playing back memories of sloppy kisses and grinding bodies that only lasted seconds in the overall scope of his seventeen year old life. Jay closed his eyes and let the images come. He'd learned that it was futile to stop them anyways.

Touch- _Parietal Lobes (Sensory Cortex): A large proportion of your sensory cortex is devoted to interpreting sensory information from body parts with the most sensory receptors, such as your fingertips, lips and genitals._

Jay felt his face flush as late night fantasies came back to him, his memory reveling in phantom sensations of her hands on his body, ghosting over sensitive skin. He took in a sharp breath and slammed the book shut quickly, getting a quick, but hidden glance from Emma, who was tapping away at her notebook with a pencil as she listened to her green iPod.

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Her pretty, if empty brown eyes followed him as he escaped to the upstairs stacks. Emma removed the ear buds, running a long, tanned hand through her messy bangs, and tugging on the silver hoop in her ear.

A mental battle raged in her head. It had been a few nights since she had seen him, drunk and willing enough to seduce. He had become elusive, hard to reach, which complicated things. Jay was easy. He was a cheap date. Everyone knew it. He knew it. So what was the new development between them that had formed in their physical absence? Had she, God forbid, missed his presence, missed rejecting him, missed their roles, their game? Standing, she quietly padded up the spiral staircase, her eyes darting around for the boy. Tired eyes scanned the shelves of books, finally directed to the open window at the end of the aisle.

His back was hunched over, his legs dangling out the window over the faculty parking lot. He smoked a cigarette, the smoke barely wafting inside the building. Emma stood for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. When he simply ignored her, she moved to squeeze next to him, taking the cigarette from his plush, pouty lips and throwing it to the ground two stories below. Jay closed his eyes and smirked, shaking his head.

"You're such a bitch." he said.

"So are you." she retorted, matter of factly. "Where have you been?"

"Around. I don't go to those things much anymore." he said after a moment.

"Because of me?" Emma asked. Jay looked at her, angry.

"Are you _always_ so self-obsessed?" he asked. Emma just pursed her lips, in that spoiled manner he was used to. After a minute or two of silence, Jay swung his legs inside, prepared to leave. Emma was not prepared to let him leave. She followed closely, hugging her notebook to her chest. Jay sensed her presence, and smiled, enlightened. He understood now.

It was all a sick, sick game.

He moved quickly, too quick for her to register what had happened. Pressing her back into the shelf labeled Chem./Psyc. Sc.764-Sc.801, Jay melded his lips to hers, barely suppressing a moan, tasting watermelon, toothpaste and energy. Emma reached, grasping for his arms, looking over through one eye curious if anyone was looking. It was daytime, after all, and she had to maintain her reputation. He swatted her hands away, deciding it was his turn for gratification. His tongue invaded her mouth, without the previous permission or question. He did his best to make her uncomfortable, invade her every sense. He understood how his goddess worked now. He knew that she played it dirty, worming her way into his pores, never to be dislodged. He took the few seconds that the furious kiss lasted to enjoy the feel of soft, small breasts pressing into his abdomen, of a smooth, cool cheek against his bristly one, of the pure surprise and discontent he got from her. He smiled against her lips. She hated not being in control.

As quickly as it was initiated, it was over. Jay forcefully separated himself from Emma, moving quickly to descend the stairs and go to his next class. His satisfied smirk didn't fade for hours, not even when Alex kissed him sweetly, not even when he got a much deserved thirty-three on his English test, not even when he found himself alone tangled in his cool sheets under the fan, massaging himself to the memory of the sounds that escaped her mouth as he beat her at her own game.

Most of all came the satisfaction of the torn, confused look in her eyes as he had simply walked away, barely disguising the fact that she, much like he had been all those nights before, was left hungry, lonely, disappointed, and irredeemably, irrepressibly, irreparably insatiable.

End.

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I enjoyed writing this. I loved the role reversal of Emma and Jay, it was refreshing to write and imagine. Hope it lived up to all your expectations! Reviews are love! XOXO.


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